


The Pain of Defeat

by TheTripBeginsWithAKiss (geekyred)



Series: Duty Bound [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyred/pseuds/TheTripBeginsWithAKiss





	The Pain of Defeat

James traces circles on her back M can feel through her top.  The pile of the fabric shifts backwards and forwards as his fingers go around and around.  It’s tender and reassuring but he’s holding M close enough to him that she can feel the hard length of his bloated cock.  She finds the contrast of his willed movements and his unconscious need dizzying.  He taps her with his fingertips a couple of time.

“Come on.”  He says, pulling away from her.  “Time to get cleaned up and dressed.”

M rests lightly against the edge of the kitchen table while Bond collects her suit from the floor.  She’s already wondering what the hell just happened.  How does this boy, the man that she supposes he finally showed himself to be, how does he pull desire and need from her so easily?

He hands her back the trousers, the jacket, but her knickers are still on the floor and she’s not about to pick them up and put them back on.

“There’s the main bathroom down the hall or you can use my ensuite.”  His next words are tentative and M knows the balance of overt power has shifted back, if not completely in her favour, then certainly back to neutral.  “Do you want me to wash you?”

M shakes her head and tells her 00 agent a crisp no thank-you.

Bond knows enough not to allow himself to watch her as M walks out in to the hall.  He picks up a tea towel from the kitchen counter and throws it down on the wet floor as he gets his beer and sits down on his couch.  He hears rainfall splashes as M has turned on the bathroom shower and he can’t really stop himself.

He stretches out his legs, feet resting on the coffee table top.  The right leg of his trousers is still a shade darker than it should be and really, it will need to be dry cleaned but he’s not thinking about the practicalities as he sips his beer and slides his hand over his cock, unable to take his eyes off it.  He rubs the heel of his hand along the length of his dick through his trousers then he rolls his fingers around the head, squeezing and pulling.

A plain, hard curse leaves his lips.  He tugs at his trousers to unfasten them and holds the beer bottle in his mouth briefly as he quickly pushes his trousers and underwear down with two hands then grasps his cock tightly.

“Fuck.”

“Quite.”

The tones are clipped and professional and she could almost be the voice in his ear again.

“Enjoying yourself James?”

He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t take his hand off his dick.  Instead he carries on with languid strokes over his shaft with his palm tumbling over the head in a tense rub.

“Don’t I deserve to?”  He bites out through gritted teeth and he wants to hear her say something, anything as an answer.

“Of course you do.”  She tells him and now she sounds so much softer than before.

He hears padded footsteps coming closer to him and when he looks up she’s there.

“Stop.”  She says.

His hand stops working his cock and it judders and shakes in protest.

All she’s wearing is a towel that’s tucked in tightly around her.  Her feet, shoulders and everything he can see are bare and her hair shows traces of damp where the water of the shower has splashed her before she changed her mind.

He drinks from the bottle he hasn’t let touch the table.  “Now what?”  He says, harsher than he intended to.

M looks at him and quirks an eyebrow.

She grabs a cushion from the sofa and throws it down on the floor between Bond’s legs.

She steps over his right leg and stands in the gap between that his knees.

Even now, with James sprawled back against his couch he can see she’s still so tiny.  There’s no sensible heels to give her an important couple of inches, no expensive underwear as a guard, no couture suit to face the world in.  It’s just her.  Old, lined and draped in experience she’s wrapped in a towel with damp hair and very little make-up and he’s never felt more at anyone’s mercy.

She throws power and comfort and confidence out with an easy air.  Every vulnerability she has ever felt, she’s absorbed it, learned every lesson it had to teach her and tossed it back at the world with defiance and a challenge to dare send her more.

And her impossibly blue eyes are staring at him.

“007?”

“Yes!”  He barks out, much more than he wants to.

“Listen to me.”  She tells him and he’s drowning in the sound.

“Listen to me.”  She says again, but harsher, like the whisper of a department head in his ear.  “I need to know that you can walk away from this.”

Fear bites at him and he feels his teeth chatter in his closed jaw.  This is the woman who took her presence and control and handed it all over to him for the times when she needs it all to be gone.  He’s spanked her, tied her up and taunted her with words calculated to humiliate her.  He’s flogged her and whipped his belt off her arse hard enough to raise welts and tonight, right now, he knows he’s still nothing more than her boy.  He knows, if he’s not careful, he’s completely fucked.

 He doesn’t answer the question straight away and M is so very glad of that.

Bond pulls the bottle of Heineken to his lips and swallows down a gulp of the acrid, bubbly beer.  The motion works every fibre he has at his command and his stomach his is heaving with his breath.

He tightens his grip around the bottle and settles his arms on the sofa, out wide on either side of him.  He stares in to her eyes and steadies his breathing until it’s shallow enough to suggest control but not quick enough for panic.

“I can do that.” He tells her.

“Are you sure Bond?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She sees the steel set in his eyes and knows it’s true.

M sets herself down on the cushion between 007’s legs and as she places her hands on his thighs she looks at him again.

 _Good boy_   He thinks he hears before she whets her lips and pushes them around his cock.

He’s trying to control himself, but all that’s accomplished so far is his beer spilled on the couch and his fingers digging alternately in to his sofa fabric or the short cropped hair of his own head.

“Fucking Hell!”  He yells as his head lolls back against the head of the sofa.  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”  He’s flitting between bonelessness and coiled tension and his hands grip the edge of the sofa ‘til his knuckles are white even as his head slackens.

M is pushing her mouth down hard on Bond’s dick, taking as much as she can in a long swallowing suck.  She holds him there for seconds, letting him feel the tip of his cock against the supple, rippled tissue of her throat and murmurs around him before her lips pull back along his length and she lets her mouth tug at the rounded head of his dick as it pops out.  James can feel the soft scrap of scars on her fingers he should have guessed were there as she holds and strokes at his balls and the base of his cock.  She flicks her tongue around the fraenulum and Bond can’t help but buck his hips up into her.

He’s trying desperately not to come.

“How the fuck..?”  He growls out and he’s curling every muscle he can & trying to hold himself at bay.  He slides further down the sofa and spread his legs wider and now he’s babbling out bits of words and sentences and trying desperately not to push his hands down onto the short, white crop of M’s hair.

She starts again with a steady, rhythmic suck and push and swallow that makes him feel like she’s fucking him with her mouth.  He wants to tell her she’s a dirty little cocksucking whore and he wants to own her but that time has past.  He pulls in a sharp breath as M scraps her teeth along him and this time his hands do reach down to her head and he slides his fingers through her hair then before he realises, he’s gripping at her scalp and bucking his hips to thrust against her.

M can hear him barking out ‘fuck’ over and over and the tight bite of his fingers pulling at her hair.  She hums around his cock again and is rewarded with another heavy thrust of his hips and a yell from him that almost sounds like crying.

It’s a glorious noise that makes her wet and pushes her desire perilously close to the edge of reason.

She pulls her lips away from his dick and works one of her small hands over him instead while the other is splayed across his stomach and her mouth sucks in one of his ball's.

Bond’s already invoking a god he hasn’t believed in since he was a child as M rubs her hand in a firm grasp over his cock and her mouth tugs at his bollock then he swears again when she lashes her tongue out to flick across the other one.  His hips are pulsing dangerously in time with her twisting hand.

M fills her mouth full of his hard, hot and, Christ she hates herself just a bit for thinking it, _glorious_ cock again.

James is staring down at her.  At his hands coiling in her hair, at his cock disappearing in and out of her mouth and…”I’m so fucking close.”  He tells her if she’s listening.

She is.

She shifts her head just enough and raises her eyes up to see his.

He doesn’t know exactly what he was going to say but he clenches his jaw shut and manages to say nothing as his face contorts with the effort of it.  He flings his hands away from her head and barks ‘stop’ at her.

“Fuck, please stop.  **_Please_**.  Please just stop.”  He huffs.  His hips are still bucking even when her mouth is gone and Bond is breathing hard, jarring breaths through gritted teeth as he pulls himself back from the brink.  He darts his hand between his legs and pushes hard to stop himself from coming before he goes over the edge.

His breath is guttering swallows of air and huffed exhalations that puff out his cheeks but he’s getting back to something approaching control.

M is on her knees still and her hands are splayed on his thighs, on the bare flesh just above his hastily pushed down clothes, and her fingers are almost but not quite motionless.

“Why?”  She asks.

Bond swallows hard. Her earlier words are looming large in his ears.

 _I need to know that you can walk away from this_.

He’s staring at her lips.  They’re plump, a little swollen from her efforts and redder than they would be normally.

_I can do that_

“Bond?” M says and a small part of her is praying she doesn’t have to invoke his Vauxhall Cross designation.

He thinks about his next words carefully.

“Let me fuck you.”

 


End file.
